


The Calm Before the Storm

by Yevynaea



Series: Lost in the Woods [4]
Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Animal Transformation, Brotherly Love, Cute, Dreams and Nightmares, Family, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Laundry, Missing Scenes, One Shot Collection, POV Child, Short, Transformation, Trust Issues, but angstier stuff is coming ouo, but i mean that's nothing new they're in freaking limbo or purgatory or whatever the fuck it is, not as sad as the other ones i promise, set after the first fic but before most of the angst in the other two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2683832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yevynaea/pseuds/Yevynaea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lantern went out, the titles changed hands, two brothers grew apart. Stop. Go back to the beginning. The lantern went out. Then what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is just some drabbles/ficlets showing a bit more of what things might've been like at first, when Greg was still a kid and Wirt was still at least mostly-human. This is like fifty billion times fluffier than previous installments in this series, and it may or may not be added to as time goes on since every time I think I'm done writing these fics another idea pops out at me.

There's someone talking when he wakes up, and Greg listens, because he wants to know who's talking, and about what, so that he can join the conversation. For a second, he thinks maybe it's Mom and Dad, talking about him while he's asleep, like grownups _always_ do, but the voices are wrong. Then Greg remembers that he isn't home, and realizes that he isn't wrapped up in tree branches either. He's lying with his head in someone's lap, and when he inches one eye open to see who it is he sees a red-haired girl he doesn't know. She's not looking at him, but at something in front of her, listening to whoever's talking. Greg decides to listen quietly too.

"Do you think I can still send Greg home?" That's Wirt's voice, quiet and sad and small. Greg frowns and gives up on listening quietly.

"What're you doing, Wirt? You should be home by now!" Greg says, opening his eyes and sitting up, and then he's a little bit scared and a lot confused, because he doesn't see Wirt, or even Beatrice. He sees Jason Funderberker the frog, and the Woodsman, and the Beast. Although, the Beast seems a bit shorter than before.

"Greg!" The Beast says, _Greg,_ not _Gregory,_ and his voice is wrong.

"Wirt?" Greg doesn't quite know whether to be less scared or more so. Wirt shifts uncomfortably.

"Yeah." He says.

"What happened?" Greg asks, eyes wide, and Wirt sighs.

"I blew out the lantern." He says, like that explains everything, because Wirt just talks like that sometimes, like he can say something that's complete nonsense and have everyone understand. Greg looks at the still-very-brightly-lit lantern in the Woodsman's hand, and he's going to say something, but then his head hurts and he's really cold and tired again, and he falls backwards, into the arms of the red-headed girl.

"Hey!" She looks worried, and her voice is familiar. "You okay, Greg?"

"Beatrice?" He asks, and she nods. Greg looks at her, and at Wirt, and at Jason Funderberker, and at the Woodsman, (who's being even more quiet and sad than the rest of them) and he decides that figuring out what happened can wait a minute. What's needed now is a good old fashioned cheering-up. Then he realizes something _very_ important. "Hey! You two got to change into something else but I didn't! I'm still waiting on my wish, you know." He directs the last part at Beatrice, who laughs a little bit.

"Still not magical, Greg." She informs him. He shrugs.

"Still doesn't have to be a magical tiger." He says, because _honestly_ , that should be obvious.

Wirt laughs with Beatrice, this time, and his lights-for-eyes brighten to something warmer than they'd been before. And Greg doesn't think they're gonna get home any time soon, but that's probably mostly okay.


	2. Laundry Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this may be the shortest thing i have ever put up somewhere after writing. this is so short. i don't even know why i wrote this one tbh.

"Mrs. Waldfogel, we _have_ a clothesline." Wirt points out, standing awkwardly in the grass behind the house while Greg-- and everyone else, really-- laughs at him.

"I know we do, Wirt. It's full already." Beatrice's mother replies, smiling at him as she hangs another of her daughters' dresses over Wirt's antlers, and Wirt sputters indignantly when part of the fabric falls in front of his eyes. Greg just laughs harder.

"Here, _here,_ can I just..." Wirt trails off with a frustrated whine, reaching up to collect the wet clothes and drop them all back into Mrs. Waldfogel's basket. She purses her lips, and he holds up one finger in a 'be patient' gesture. Then he walks over to the trees, willing branches to grow out into the open, until they reach the clothesline the Woodsman set up at Mrs. Waldfogel's insistence. The branches straighten themselves into continuations of the cords already there, making the clothesline about three times longer than it started, and Beatrice's mother smiles once again, patting Wirt's cheek as she passes him on her way over to the new line.

"Thank you." She looks up, and pulls a sock that he missed off of the tip of one of his antlers.

Greg still hasn't stopped laughing.


	3. In Memory

"Do you miss everyone?" Greg asks one day, when he's sitting in a tree, his legs dangling over the grass. He's up just high enough that his shoes would be hitting Wirt's antlers if Wirt were standing any closer to the tree, which come to think of it is probably why Wirt isn't standing any closer to the tree.

"What?" Wirt doesn't turn his head, he's too preoccupied by the lantern where it sits by the Woodsman's feet. The man is chopping firewood while the boys watch him, and Greg thinks maybe it's good that the Woodsman hasn't noticed Wirt's staring yet. It's been almost half a year that they've been here, or maybe less or maybe more, but either way it's been a while, and Wirt still sometimes stares at the lantern. Greg doesn't think he'll ever stop, really.

"Do. You. Miss. Everyone." Greg punctuates each word with a halfhearted attempt to kick his brother's antlers. The last kick actually connects with the edge of one, and Wirt sputters and stumbles a step forward at the sudden impact.

"What was that for?" He asks, finally turning away from the lantern. _Success_! Greg grins.

"I'm askin' you a question!" Greg exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air for emphasis.

"Oh, yeah." Wirt seems to shrug, but it's hard to tell under his shadowy cloak. "Yeah, I do. We're okay here, though, right?"

He sounds unsure, maybe just a bit scared.

"Yeah, we're okay." Greg kicks his legs a little harder, then just lets them swing on their own. "I miss Mom and Dad though. And Old Lady Daniels. And Martin that I met on the playground that one time. And Aunt Milly. And--"

"Yeah." His brother sighs. "I miss everybody too."

"Even Jason Funderberker the human?" Greg asks, because it's important to distinguish between Jason Funderberker, their frog, and Jason Funderberker who _isn't_ a frog. Wirt laughs a little bit.

"Even Jason Funderberker the human." He confirms.

"Who do you miss the most?" Greg asks. "I miss Mom and Dad the most. And Uncle Andrew. He gave me fifty whole dollars for my birthday last year."

"I miss Mom." Wirt replies easily, and Greg nods. "And your Dad, I guess. And maybe Sara, too."

"I wonder if Sara ever listened to the tape you made her." Greg thinks aloud, and Wirt's eyes widen, then dim slightly. (Greg's started to notice that Wirt's eyes go dimmer for a second when he's sad.)

"I hope not." Wirt says quietly, something akin to sympathy in his voice.

"I guess it'd be sad for her to hear the tape when you're d-- when you can't go home, huh?" Greg stops himself before he actually says The Word. _Everyone_ in the Unknown flinches when he says The Word, especially Wirt, and Greg thinks it's probably because it reminds Wirt that he couldn't send him home, (Wirt is good at hiding flinches, now, under shadow and tattered fabric and that weird flickering thing he does sometimes,) so Greg doesn't say The Word. Wirt flinches anyway, though, and his little brother frowns.

"Yeah." Wirt agrees quietly, looking back to the lantern. "I don't want to make her sad."

Greg avoids pointing out that it's probably too late for that. Instead he nods, even though Wirt isn't looking at him any more, and prepares for the most dangerous daredevil stunt ever. Wirt doesn't like anyone to touch him any more, but he'll forgive Greg just this once, Greg thinks. The younger boy lets out a whoop as he half jumps, half slips off of the tree branch, and just as predicted, the noise leads Wirt to turn his head toward Greg. But he only has time to turn far enough that one antler is just within reach of Greg's outstretched fingers. The younger boy grabs onto Wirt's antler mid-fall, and uses it to swing forward-- a bit further than initially intended, seeing as Wirt spins a little because of Greg's weight-- then he lets go, dropping into the grass with a loud "Ta-da!" and looking quickly behind him when he hears Wirt let out a small,

"Oomph."

His brother is on the ground, staring somewhat forlornly at the sky, having fallen off balance because of Greg's stunt. Greg starts laughing when Wirt doesn't bother getting back up again.

"Boys, what are you doing over there?" The Woodsman calls.

"Training to be a trapeze artist in the circus!" Greg replies cheerily.

"Oh, so I'm a trapeze now?" Wirt asks. He props himself up on his elbows so to better look at Greg. "I grow antlers and suddenly I'm an inanimate circus prop, demoted from sentience and without any purpose or identity of my own?"

"Yes." Greg affirms solemnly, despite only understanding about half of Wirt’s spontaneous poem. He dissolves back into laughter when his brother flops backward into the grass again.


	4. Building Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I've been working on this the last couple days and was gonna post it at the same time as the first three except I still had to edit grammar and look for typos so. (And someone who i s2g is a mind reader asked exactly the question addressed by this chapter today so tbh I guess this timing turned out better.)

            Beatrice, after Wirt gives her the scissors and the Woodsman helps her snip her feathers away, isn’t sure what to do next. Her dress, thankfully, changes with her, but her bare feet get pins and needles in the snow and Adelaide’s scissors are cold and brittle in her hand. When Greg whimpers in his sleep, she sits and rests his head on her lap to comfort him, and then he wakes and sees what’s happened, she watches his unconditional acceptance of his brother and she wonders if her family would have accepted her home even if she couldn’t have changed them back. Part of her knows they would; the rest is just glad she doesn’t have to find out.

            “What now?” The Woodsman asks, still eyeing the lantern with a grief he should have been left to feel long ago, and Wirt doesn’t have an answer, so Beatrice stands up, holding the scissors tight.

            “I need to go back to my family.” She says. “You guys don’t have to come with me.”

            They all go with her, because there isn’t really much else for them to do. They trek through the snow on the ground, Beatrice leading the way while a still-half-asleep Greg rides piggy-back on the Woodsman’s shoulders, Jason Funderberker hopping along beside them, Wirt trailing behind all of them in stoic silence the whole way.

            “Mom?” Beatrice calls, once they’re close enough to the tree where her family roosts.

            “Beatrice!” Her mother’s voice is filled with relief for her daughter’s safety, and she zips out of the tree, followed by the rest of the Waldfogels. Beatrice, on instinct, raises her arms as if for a hug, and the bluebirds perch on them shoulder-to-shoulder and chatter about how much they missed her, before one of Beatrice’s youngest sisters catches sight of where Wirt stands watching them from half behind a tree. She cries out in fear, and Wirt recoils, hands going up defensively and feet nearly tripping over each other when he stumbles back.

            “It’s okay!” Beatrice says loudly, and she doesn’t know whether she’s pacifying Wirt or her family but it doesn’t really matter. “It’s okay. He’s okay. We’re okay.”

 

▲♦▲♦▲♦▲

 

            They go back, to the house that used to be theirs and then was the Woodsman’s and now lies shattered. Wirt wonders aloud if he can use the forest to their advantage, and then he does, wood twisting and contorting under his will, branches working as fingers to work alongside the Woodsman in rebuilding the homestead. With Greg watching curiously, Beatrice changes her family back, one at a time, and while she snips she and Greg tell them all they’ve missed. Her mother turns to where Wirt is concentrating on helping the Woodsman, and now that she’s looking, Mrs. Waldfogel can see, under the shadows, the image of the boy who’d been left in her care.

            They all help fix and add to the house, except for the youngest children, and it takes a while to get everything done, but with as many of them as there are it isn’t as long a job as it might have been. Then they move back in, all of them, except Wirt who is too much a part of the forest to come inside. Wirt tries to find a way to send Greg home, and he never finds one. By the time he gives up, though, Greg’s already as much a part of the family as the rest of the children he’s now growing up alongside.

           

▲♦▲♦▲♦▲

 

            The Woodsman keeps chopping down Edelwoods, when he finds them, and he and Greg keep their eyes on the lantern to make sure Wirt’s light never goes out. Beatrice’s father finally puts a vegetable garden in the yard, like he’d always meant to before, and Beatrice helps him tend to it because she’s grown used to being outdoors and the house feels too confining for a bluebird, sometimes, even though she isn’t one anymore. The whole family learns not to gasp or flinch in fear when they catch sight of Wirt in the trees or by the windows, and he learns not to disappear or curl in on himself when they _do_ flinch. They learn to travel the woods without keeping a wary eye out over their shoulders for signs of winding antlers, without stopping for too long because then they often find Edelwood growing over their shoes that Wirt will flinch at the mention of and apologize for a million times over, and Wirt learns how to keep out of sight while still staying close because he needs to make sure they’re _okay_ , needs to keep the forest from growing over them like he can feel that it so very badly wants to.

And life, in a way, goes on.


	5. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all have nightmares.

They all have nightmares. They all have nights when they wake with screams on their lips or tears trailing down their cheeks, nights when they shiver even when the hearth is lit, nights when they jump at any noise and look over their shoulders for a familiar shadow. Whether any of them are looking for him out of fear or a wish for comfort they don’t quite know.

Most dream of darkness, of lightless night in the deepest part of the woods, of that shadow turning against them as is his nature. Their fears are easily put aside when dawn breaks, at least for the day.

Beatrice dreams of cages. She dreams of being a bluebird with clipped wings that don’t end in a change of shape, trapped between thorns and the reaching branches of an Edelwood, with no sky in sight. She wakes from one such dream once when she’s still young, on a night when it’s her turn to keep the lantern by her bedside to make sure it stays lit, and she stares at it for a long while. She ponders the potential damages and benefits of blowing out the light, even goes so far as to reach up to open the glass with a hand shaking so hard she’s surprised the lantern doesn’t just fall off the nightstand. After a moment of frozen silence, she closes the glass and rolls over in bed, and the flame burns brightly at her back.

Greg dreams of wind. He dreams of snowstorms that bury him, make it easier for the Edelwoods to catch him. He dreams of wind swirling into a tornado around his brother, making Wirt taller and taller until he speaks and his voice is that of the Beast, saying “We had a deal, Gregory.” And Then he shrinks into Wirt again, the way he was before, in his red cone hat and with pale skin that only gets paler as both brothers are wrapped in roots and branches. Greg wakes on many nights, as a boy, with his brother’s name on his lips, determinedly sneaking out of the house and into the woods because he has to make sure Wirt is safe.

Wirt always finds him and takes him back to the house, but by that time someone’s always awake and waiting at the door. Usually it’s Mrs. Waldfogel, or the Woodsman, lips curled in a worried frown and axe or kitchen knife in hand, and Greg pretends not to know what the adults think they may had to have used the blades for.

Wirt doesn’t dream. You can’t dream if you don’t sleep, and even if you could sleep, he isn’t sure what there is to dream about that doesn’t already play in vivid detail through his memories. Greg asks him once, when they’re walking back to the house, if Wirt has the nightmares same as the rest of them.

“Nightmares don’t have nightmares.” Wirt says bitterly, cringing as soon as the words pass his lips because he hadn’t meant to say that out loud and especially not to his kid brother. Greg frowns, thoughtful, then shakes his head.

“I don’t think that’s true. I think everyone has nightmares sometimes. Especially worry-Wirts.” He says, and Wirt notes that Greg doesn’t deny that Wirt is a nightmare. Somehow that’s more comforting than if he’d tried to argue.

Beatrice’s oldest brother Peregrine is waiting for them at the door, eyes alert despite the late hour, the Woodsman’s axe dangling at his side. Wirt stays back, well out of reach, and waves Greg toward the house, and the boy takes a step forward before turning back around. “G’night, Wirt.”

“Goodnight, Greg.” Wirt says. Greg smiles before disappearing inside. Peregrine steps forward once Greg is inside, blocking the inside of the house from Wirt’s sight, nodding once in grateful acknowledgment before shutting the door.

Wirt returns to the woods.


	6. No Innocent Beggar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enoch feels it before he sees it, a presence at the edge of town, a familiar but unwanted soul, not daring to tread past the outskirts but still waiting there, in the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few months ago I rewatched all of OtGW, remembered how much I liked Enoch's character, and wrote this and never finished editing it until a couple days ago when I remembered this series existed so sorry it took so long. ;-;

Enoch feels it before he sees it, a presence at the edge of town, a familiar but unwanted soul, not daring to tread past the outskirts but still waiting there, in the trees. He goes to it, not in his larger form but as a cat, as is his true appearance, and the would-be trespasser stares warily down at him when Enoch curls up at the creature’s feet.

“You aren’t welcome here, Beast.” He says pleasantly, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth with his heartbeat.

“I’m not interested in your little town, cat.” The Beast replies, his posture such that Enoch wonders if the creature is actually thinking of kicking him. He doesn’t think it will happen, though, so he closes his eyes, puts his head on his front paws as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

“Good.” He says. “I hate to think what might happen if you were to anger my citizens.”

“...That was a threat.” The Beast says after a moment, and Enoch yawns, baring his teeth in what’s not quite a grin.

“Was it, now?” He asks. The Beast makes a irritated noise and retreats into the woods, and Enoch waits until he’s sure the creature is gone before returning home.

 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

 

He doesn’t try to keep track of time; he knows when the seasons are shifting, when it’s time to plant or to harvest, but he doesn’t know how many years pass, how many days. It doesn’t really matter enough in the Unknown to warrant keeping track of, so he just, doesn’t.

Pottsfield keeps growing, slowly, as more and more souls find their way to it, and sometimes the Beast lurks at the edge of town and has to be chased off. And things keep going on like they always do. Except, of course, when they don’t, and then Enoch is usually the second to notice (the Beast being the first, because the Beast is the Unknown is the Beast).

This is the way when the Beast is replaced, and the boy that isn’t a boy sometimes stands at the edge of town as his forerunner had done so often, like an orphan in a fable, looking in the windows of warm houses despite being stuck outside in the cold. And Enoch always goes to meet him, to make sure the windows stay closed because the Beast is no innocent beggar, and Enoch is no fool.

 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

 

“You aren’t welcome here, Beast.” He says, an echo of so many times before; it’s practically become tradition now, and it’s been years now since the lantern changed hands, but Enoch suspects it will be many more years before it happens again.

“Just checking on them.” The young Beast replies, and apparently doesn’t feel the need to explain himself because that is where he falls silent. Enoch follows the creature’s gaze across the fields to the town, and hazards a guess.

“Your bluebird’s parents.”

The Beast doesn’t move, but Enoch gets the impression of a frown.

“She isn’t _my_ anything.” He protests. Enoch hums, and doesn’t say more, stretching his front paws out in front of him before sitting back down. “Goodbye, Enoch.”

The cat pauses, blinking slowly at the creature looming above him. The Beast meets his gaze, nods once, a gesture of respect, and turns away, withdrawing into the trees before Enoch can respond.

 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

  
Enoch takes his time getting to the treeline, the next time the creature shows up, because the Beast is no innocent beggar, and Enoch is no fool, but maybe the window doesn’t have to be quite so tightly locked.

 


End file.
